What Was Silent Starts to Speak
by Penstrokes of Death
Summary: "And you are not my son." AU. Chapter fic. Hiccup leaves Berk with Toothless, abandoning the only home he's ever known. The dragons become his family, his constant. The people of Berk continue to suffer the attacks of the Red Death and kill dragons, two dragon riders meet for the first time. Eventual Hiccstrid.


_Disclaimer: No profit, do not own._

There was nothing left to say and no emotion left to say it with. Fifteen years of never really connecting to each other and struggling to bridge a gap was at an end as their last words to each other hung in the air. They stood in silence.

"For once in your life will you please just listen?!"

Hiccup had tried everything to get his father to just once hear him and not cut him off. He'd spent a lifetime straining to live up to the Viking way, to live up to his father because he didn't understand why the man couldn't just _be proud of him_. There was something wrong with him for being so small and so different, but no one ever told him what he could do to "stop all this," just that he had to. Now, standing here in the Great Hall without anything else to lose he realised that people could never earn love anyway, it just had to come. He could only think of one time that it had come to him, and now he didn't care about anything but that one last strand of hope: his dragon.

"No! You are not a Viking… and you are not my son. You are done; you have no place here. You have ten minutes to leave my island. Go!"

Stoick didn't understand the boy at all. He didn't know why he couldn't just _be a Viking_ instead of whatever he was. Dragons killed the boy's mother and he couldn't even lift a blade against them. He had none of the bloodlust and none of the ability that was needed just to survive this way of life. He could have even handled the way he looked like his mother if the boy could only just act like his chief. It was infuriating to be always reminded and always so distant. Laws were laws, ways of life were ways of life. The boy needed to go for the sake of the tribe and Stoic's sanity. No one could trust dragons.

He talked to himself while he worked; he'd always done it and Toothless had encouraged the habit - no doubt unwittingly- by seeming to respond to everything. Now as he spent his last moments in the room he'd been in as long as he could remember packing what he could into a basket he kept it up, murmuring. It was comforting to hear all the complaints and anger leaving him.

"Hiccup."

The now former Viking jumped around instantly, "Astrid."

"I brought you the food."

By law each exile was given a week's worth of food and a good sword. Astrid had dumped them on the floor by the table and hadn't even bothered mentioning the weapon. That said a lot on its own.

"You're not going to survive a month on your own."

"Thank you, for that encouragement. But I will have you know that I do in fact have a plan."

She threw herself into a chair and looked completely unimpressed. He had to admit to himself that he did try that bluff too often and changed the subject; the shieldmaiden was a perfect Viking and his father - not father anymore- probably liked her better than him anyway.

"Did he ever even care about me? Even a little?"

"He was your dad." She shrugged, "He probably just expected more from you."

"Why does talking to you always make me feel worse?"

"Because you ask me questions."

Hiccup rolled his eyes and shoved everything in the basket. He hesitated for a moment.

"Hey Astrid?"

"Yeah?"

"Um, take care of yourself."

'You're beautiful,' seemed like a bad thing to add, right along with 'I've had a crush on you since I could walk'.

"You too."

She punched his arm as he walked past to hop down out of the back window. Technically he was supposed to be heading to the cove to take a ship, but she guessed he had some way; he never stayed where he wasn't wanted.

Hiccup landed on his feet and jogged away, eventually turning around and glancing at the only house he would have thought to call home. Now though, with everything gone, he didn't feel anything but relief walking away from it. At least that's what he told himself.

Everything hurt: his father's words, leaving what he thought was safe. All of a sudden his life was only what he made it and was scary. There was nothing to him anymore, only an emptiness that he had to fill himself. He wasn't sure how to do that. He wasn't sure what he would do at all. He did know how to start though.

"Heeey Toothless," He drug everything out as though the dragon might care about his situation, "Guess what? We're leaving. For good. We are never coming back."

The Night Fury appeared from nowhere and sat its head firmly on the boy's.

"Mainly because they'll shoot at us. I'll get the saddle."

He kept one eye on the dragon, watching it nudge the basket, watching it watch the sky, listening to it sniff the air. The normality of it made him a little less afraid of the massive unknown he was stepping into; if he was going to go, at least he wasn't alone.

"So I was thinking that the island where we found those Terrible Terrors wouldn't be a bad place to spend the night. We know we can get food there, and the dragons aren't too wild. We might even be able to stay there a little longer. We won't be bothered since nobody ever sails that way."

Toothless nuzzled his hand and Hiccup realised he was crying. The dragon let out a low, soft purr of sympathy.

"Not now, bud. We've got about two minutes before they search this island to make sure I'm gone. Come on, see if you can carry this."

It was hard to tie knots through tears that still stung, but it had to be done. The cool scales and the gentle motion of Toothless's breathing beneath him felt good; from the back of a power-packed dragon the world looked different- sharper and clearer, less dangerous and more exciting. Hiccup settled into the saddle and took one last deep breath of Berk's air.

"This is it. Let's go, bud."

Astrid had been the first person to leave the village in order to make sure their newest exile was gone. At the very least she knew she'd be more tolerant of the dork than most people; she kind of liked him, he'd been funny, but he was a horrible Viking. Maybe he'd do better somewhere else. He'd set off in this direction when he left his house, so all she had to do was follow his trail-

A shrill whispering noise came from above her head and she dove under a nearby log. That was the sound of a Night Fury, here, on Berk, in broad daylight. She needed to get back, needed to warn the village. The girl risked peeking out from under the log.

The dragon was blacker than night except for one flash of brown on half his tail.

"Hiccup?!"


End file.
